Ballads and translations

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Cornell University
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BALLADS

TRANSLATIONS

00N8TANTINA E. BROOKS.

NEW YORK:

D. A.PPLBTON & CO., 44.; and Mo BROADWAY.

LONDON :

16 LITTLE BRITAIN.

1886.

EDtoied according to Act of Con^csa, m the jcar 1S6I, bj C. E. BROOKS, in the Clerk'd
Office of the District Court of the TJiiitcd St»l«s foi the Southern District of New 'S'ork.

CONTENTS.

BALLADS.

A BEETOJf Legend

Pictures in the Fire

Gekda

The Indian's Message .

Edlalie, I., II., III. .

The Jongfrau

The Maid op the Morass .

Tawasentha Lake ,

The Mariner

The Wanderer .

June Evening

Dirge op Adonis

Bagatelle

The Viking

The Rose Wreaths .

15
19
26
81
35
37
40
45
48
58
61
66
68
76

4 CONTENTS.

HISTOKICAL BALLADS.

LUTZEX . . . . 81

Lamkkt of Abd-xl-Rhaman ' . . 91

FiiAXCIS IL AT Gaeta . . , .03

The Battle of Yermouk ... 99

El Zagal . . . 103

MOSLNXA . , . . 109

Hakem ... . . 113

TRANSLATIONS.

To Spring . . . . . .119

To THE Rose .... 120

From Hecuba .... 121

Chords from HEcnBA .... 124

Froji a Chorus in Alcestis . . . 127

From » CuoRua in ALCESTia . . . 129
Harald the Valiant .... 131

Funeral Song of Hacon . . . 13i
Note to Harald . ... 141

KoTi; to Hacon . . . . 143

BALLADS

BALLADS.

A BRETON LEGEND.

At dead of night, when the northern blast
Drives onward the white waves fierce and fast,
When the moon looks down like a sheeted ghost
On the sea-rent rocks of the Breton coast ;

When the raven shrieks a dismal tone

From the blood-dyed sacrificial stone —

The fisherman starts ! through the breakers' roar

A soft tap comes on his cottage-door !

" Now what means this ? " — forth does he peer-
Nought does he see and nought does he hear —
Nought does he see save the clouds that sail

O'er the granite cliffs of Cornuaille.
1*

10

" Now what means tbis ? " — around him are cast
The arms of his wife, and she holds him fast ;
He feels her shudder, he hears her speak :
" The frith is rough and the night is bleal;:- -

" The frith is rough — thy boat would'st launch !
It would perish to-night, be it ever so staunch —
See oyer tlie furze moor, over the hill,
The huts of the fisherman dark and still."

A tap on liis door — he knows it well —
" Thy lip is blanched, and thy heart doth swell !
Oh, stay by thy heartli-fire, ruddy and bright —
Sail not on the angry frith to-night ! "

No answer he makes — one kiss on her face,
He casts her away from his fond embrace.
And downward goes with a faltering tread —
Downward and down — to the Bay of the Dead.

There, rocked on the surf, lies a freighted barque,
Its shape is strange, and its color is dark ;
Nought does he hear, and nought does he see,
But 'tis freighted with ghostly company.

11

Freighted so heayy, and freighted so low,
O'er its slimy edge the ripples flow —
Freighted so low to the ocean's brim
That dashes the salt spray over its rim.

Fisherman — fisherman 1 enter and steer I
Nor fair winds court, nor foul winds fear I
On and on, and over the sea
Pilot the barque with its company.

The fisherman shudders, and well he may—
He sees on the spectre-haunted bay
Gleam over the waters, mile on mile.
The torch-red light of the Druid isle.

Over the rush and over the roar

He hears the wail from the Druid shore,

A woman's weird, prophetic strain,

The Druidess' chant from the isle of Sein.

On, still on — far over the sea
Floateth the ghostly company —
Till far behind in the moonlight pale
Lie the granite clifis of CornuaiUe.

12 BALLADS.

They pass the isles — they pass the caves,
Alone on the wide and trackless waves,
Till the beetling crags loom over the Sound,
And warn — they are nearing the Britain ground.

Now who shall land in a night like this ?
The giant surges coil and hiss —
They break, they roar up the mountain-side
Hollowed and seamed with the seething tide !

But over the surf and off from the sea

The freighted craft leaps fearlessly —

Off from the sea, and over the surf

The prow almost touches the fresli green turf.

Through the gloom, afar as eye may reach,
Trend inland the old woods from the Ijeach,
The oaks of a thousand years — they sigh
With the breath of the gale eternally.

What sounds from their innermost tiosom float ?
Some lonely night-bird's mournful note ?
No — the fisherman hears a soft voice swell.
And he sits entranced by its magic spell.

BAIiLADS. 13

Like the rustle of leaves wlien the noontide-hom
Is hushed ere the fall of the sumrder-shower,
That low, sweet sound floats down to the bay
Aad summons the ghostly crew away.

Their names are called — their journey is done—
They go from the benches one by one —
Little by little the keel grows light,
Till it dances, a chip, on the foamy height.

Now, fisherman, row ! the stars pale fast,
The morning scent is on the blast —
Now, fisherman, row with might and main 1
Back — back to the Breton coast agaiu ;

For if the daybeam's kindling spark
Finds thee afioat in that stranger barque.
To-morrow night thyself will be
One of that ghostly company !

So night by night when the wan clouds sail
O'er the granite clifis of Comuaille,
And the Druidess' chant, like a cry of pain.
Comes up from the mystic isle of Sein —

14

The flsherman starts from Ms rugged bed,
And downward wends to the Bay of the Dead,
Over the Straight — through the breakers' roar-
To ferry the dead to Britain's shore.

And this is why — when the conquering Franks
Poured over the dark blue Rhine their ranks,
To vex with spoil and tribute all
The fiefs and harvest-lands of Gaul ;

The fishermen on those rocks so bare
From tax and toll exempted were,
Since theirs the task to ferry o'er
The souls of the dead to Britain's shore.

BALLADS. 15

PICTURES IN THE FIRE.

As the hearth-fire roaring, blazing,
"Warms the long December night,

"What strange pioturea thought is tracing
In its red and golden light ;

Childhood in its realms enchanted —
"With its joys, its wishes crowned —

And its legends wUd and haunted.
As the Christmas- tide comes round,

"With its fairy tasks and graces —
"With its evening hymn's soft swell —

Laughs and freaks and smiling faces.
And its pets — ah, loved how well !

16 BALLADS.

"With the world so fair before it,
Witli its hours of heart-felt mirth,

And the beams of heaven still o'er it,
Lending their own hues to earth.

In the hearth-fire roaring, gleaming,
Pale those visions bright have grown ;

Youth with pensive eye sits dreaming
Of the future's vast unknown.

Youth ! the past and future lending
Each its beauties, each its truth.

In one golden glow are blending
Round the magio hours of youth.

Learning's paths in endless number
Then their vi>t:is fair unroll.

Then the harpstrings wake from slumber
Each soft passion of the soul.

Then the heart, ere grief has reft it
Of its earliest, freshest flowers,

Tastes the bliss that sole is left it
Pure from our lost Eden's bowers.

BALLADS. 17

Still the hearth-flre bright is glowing ;

Youth haa sped on noiseless feet,
Gentler cares succeed, bestowing

Graver thoughts but not less sw'eet ;

And new tiny feet, new voices
Gather round, new happy hearts ;

All that charms us and rejoices
Home's enchanted bound imparts.

Consummated are life's pleasures

One by one as counted o'er.
And the full heart clasps its treasures,

Even its own — foreverraore.

Still the flickering hearth-fire flashes,
Hark ! was 't distant music's sound ?

Lightly falling — sparks and ashes
Gather dull and dead around.

But those visions, fair and cherished

In the hearth-flre lately seen —
Were they of what was and perished — -

Or what only might have been ?

18 BALLADS.

Both or either — can it matter ?

Both are nothing — all is still
Save the heavy raindrops' patter,

And the storm upon the hill.

BALLADS. 19

GERDA.

Loud on the lattice splashed the rain,
The midnight storm was drear,

When came a tap on Gerda's pane,
A voice was in her ear, —

" Awake, my love, my locks are wet.
My steed pants for the way ;
Give me one smile, one kind word yet,
Ere we two part for aye.''

" The hour is late, the storm is high,
Thy face is pale to see ;
Dismount, my lord, thy looks I'll dry,
And set some food for thee."

20 BALLADS.

" It may not be, I cannot stay,
Hark to the distant sea—
And shrieks along the monntain way —
A summons 'tis for me.

O Gerda ! ere thy faith and mine
Were pliglit, my faith was given

To one nor Imman nor divine.
And not of earth or heaven.

Deep in the sea she rears her bower,

Slie claims my promise plight ;
Slie summons with resistless power,

Our bridal is to-night."

" And if thy bridal is to-night,
And if "tis not with me.
Then never morning's hateful light
Again these eyes shall see.

Dismount, my Hacon, why this haste-
What idle dreams are those ?

t!ome, in thy Gerda's cottage taste
Refreshment and repose.''

BALLADS. 21

" Give me a cup of watei-, dear,
He'll guard thee in whose Name
One cup of water given here
A cup of life may claim."

" Call thou then on that Name, he sure
Before that Name no spell,
Nor charm, nor magic, shall endure, —
In heaven, or earth, or hell."

" Hark to the thunder of the sea —
And shrieks along the dell ;
No hope, nor aid, nor prayer, for me ; —
One kiss — dear love — farewell."

" Awake — awake — my brother dear,
Hacon this night will ride.
Nor broken faith nor vengeance fear.
To win a bonny bride.

And was not I to be his bride?

Was not his promise plight?
Arise, my brother, we must ride

Fast on his track to-night.

22 BALLADS.

For if his bridal is to-night,

And if 'tis not -n-ith me,
Then never morning's hateful light

Again these eyes shall see."

Now she has donned her best attire,

Her hood and sandals gray,
The raindrops plash, the sides are fire ;

The coursers speed away.

A thousand graves below, around.
Yawn 'neath the lightning's streak,

And ghosts start up with moaning sound,
And opening coffln^oreak.

Along the city's miry street

Loud beats the sullen rain.
With blood-red eyes, and faster feet,

The coursers speed amain.

" O brother, brother, hold ray rein ;
My rash vow I revoke ;
Heaven will not smile on vengeance ta'en.
Or words in anger spoke."

BALLADS. 23

" Nay, thou hast sworn that moruing's light
No more those eyes should see ;
And I that Haoon fur this slight
Should vengeance pay to me."

The soil is soft, the weeds are rank,

And dark lakes stretch around,
And poisonous fogs hang o'er the bank,

And hide the slippery ground.

The hiU is steep, the plain is wide.

The loud rains plash amain,
They thunder up the mountain side,

And toil along the plain.

" O brother, brot.her, hold my rein,
My rash vow I revoke ;
Heaven will not smile on vengeance ta'en,
Or words in anger spoke."

" Nay, thou hast sworn that morning's light
No more those eyes should see ;
And I that Hacon for this slight
Should vengeance pay to me."

24 BALLADS.

The red mora gleamed along the shore,

And loud the red cook crew,
As faster toward the breakers' roar

The steeds resistless flew.

Hark! o'er the waters slow

Booms a passing bell ;
Hark ! sea-nymphs ring below

A long and doleful knell.

" Thy love sleeps calm on amber rooks
Strewn with whitest sands,
The cold wave lifts his sable locks,
Tangle binds his hands.

Sea-shells murmur anthems strange,

Naiads smooth his face,
Plant bright corals, and arrange

His limbs with decent grace.

t'ome and share thy lover's rest,

Soft the billows swell,
Sea-weed is the bridal vest,

A dirge the bridal bell.''

BALLADS. 25

Thrice the heavy death- knell tolls

Calling sad and slow ;
Thrice are prayers said for the souls

Of those that sleep helow.

26 BAI-LADS.

THE INDIAN'S MESSAaE.

LouDLy through the dark pine forest
Moans the morning blast amain,

As the lonely Indian journeys

Swiftly towards the northern plain :

Sees where from tlio white man's village
Smote goes curling towards the west ;

By the white man's lonely churchyard
Sits he down awhile to rest.

Suddenly there stood beside him
A strange Indian, tall and proud ;

Wan and ghastly were his features.
And he wore a snow-white shroud.

BALLADS. 27

" On Missouri's banks my war-cry
Once led up the foeman's track,
Wliere my Sioux from tlie battle
Empty-banded ne'er came back.

" Many a hundred miles I journeyed
By my father's grave to stand ;
And I sickened, pined and died here,
Died here in the white man's land.

"In a snow-white shroud they wrapped me,
And a narrow coffin gave,
And among their kindred laid me,
In a dark and dismal grave.

" Placed they by my side no hatchet,
And no paints to deck my face.
In my hand no bow and arrows,
And no trophies of the chase.

" With no tomahawk beside me,
With no trophies in my hand,
How was I to meet my fathers
In the distant spirit-land ?

28 BALLADS.

" Many a weary year I've listened
For the well-known Indian tread,
For a brother Indian passing
In the grass above my head.

"By great Manitou I charge thee
Seek my kindred and my tribe.
Tell them how I pined and sickened,
And my lonely grave describe.

" Tell them to bring here my hatchet,
Bows and arrows in my hand,
And in beads and feathers dress me
To adorn the spirit-land.

" Put aside this cold dark coffin,

Prisoning here my wearied form,
Bring my furs and spoils of hunting,
Wrap me in my mantle warm.

" Tell them how I scorned the white man
With his creed of pomp and pride,
Deigned to him no word or answer.
Prayed to Manitou, and died.

BALLADS. 29

" And by tlie Great Spirit charge them
Never let tlie war-cry cease,
Never be the hatchet buried,
Never smoked the pipe of peace 1

" If we dare retaliation,

Loud they blazon forth our shame,
Frame complaints, and call down vengeance
On the Indian's injured name.

" Who first reaped our rightful harvests ?
Trampled on our fathers' graves?
Scorned our wives, and slew our children.
And of freemen made us slaves ?

" Who first wove the web of treason?
First made faith and treaties vain ?
War eternal on the white man
Can alone efface the stain!

" See, the east grows red ; I charge thee
Once more, warn my Sioux braves ;
Let them dye in blood their hatchets
Far along Missouri's waves !

30 BALLADS.

" Hark — the cook crows ! — I must hasten
To the lonely grave they made me,
To the dark and narrow coffin
"Where the hated white man laid me! "

BALLADS. 31

EULALIE.

I.

When barren were the fern and copse,
And loud tte nortli wind's sweep,

And on the moors and mountain tops
The yellow leaves lay deep ;

Thy hands a golden garland sought

Far through the faded bowers,
For me — sweet Eulalie — and wrought

Of autumn's latest flowers.

The long months passed with frost and snow,

And cold clear skies above —
And earth once more awoke, to glow

With bursting life and love ;

32 BALLADS.

Some withered violets came to me
From far beyond the wave —

Spring's earliest flowers, sweet Eulalie,
And gathered on thy grave.

II.

If thy brief life of love, so blest
So beauteous in its grace divine,

Awoke one longing in my breast —

One pang that such could ne'er be mine-

With what a deeper longing, how
I envy now thy tranquil sleep —

The heart that swells not, sinks not now.
The eye that will not wake to weep.

And thou, in thy cold English grave —
I, with thine image in my heart —

HE who our various fortunes gave
May say, whose is the better part :

BALLADS.

Thou, at His feet in joy serene,
Forgetting earth's vain sorrowings—

I, hurried through life's restless scene.
And trouhled about many things.

III.

With what a longing do I turn
To yon blue mansions of the blest,

To thee, my gentle friend, and yearn
To .be with thee, to be at rest !

To clasp that hand so warm of yore.
To mark that heart with rapture swell,

And hear that Toice that nevermore
Shall breathe the hated word — farewell !

And thou hast left me ; but the track

Thy feet have pressed I travel fast ;

To my poor home thou com'st not back,

But I will enter thine at last.
2*

34 BAILADS.

How like a midnight dream, and less,
This life will seem to thee and me.

As age on age of blessedness
Rolls on in our eternity !

BALLADS. 35

THE JUNGFRAU.

The hunter toiled o'er the Jungfrau height,
"Whose calm, eternal peak of snow

Was rosy with the sunset light ;

Deep lay the valleys wrapped in night ;
And wearily he toiled and slow ;

When, on the steep ascent, there glides
A snow-white maid before his eyes ; —
" See, night is gathering far and wide.

There's danger on the Jungfrau's side ;
Eest here with me till morning rise."

" I cannot stay ; my cottage ray

Doth in the valley waiting burn ;

36 BAILADS.

My bride would watoh till break of day,
And tremble for the treacherous way

O'er which she knows I must return."

Again, when day had parted quite.

Before him the same maiden stood ; —
" Oh, rest thee in my arms to-night;

Alone I dwell on the Jnngfrau height.
And wearied am with solitude.

The steep descent would but beguile.
The precipice is slippery still ;

Thy bride may wait yet for awhile ;

Here till the ruddy day-beams smile.
Forget thy weariness and chill."

Her arms of snow are round him cast ;

He sinks to sleep upon her breast ;
Loud roars the rising Alpine blast,
The night is cold, the snow falls fast.

But nevermore thev break his rest.

BALLADS. 37

THE MAID OF THE MOBASS.

As night on the deep morasses sank,
And the huntsman homeward late returned,

He saw a maid sit on the bank,

A rush-light fast beside her burned.

" Tell me, O lovely maid, I pray,
Is there a kindly cottage nigh 1
For long ago I lost my way.

When the sun set red in the western sky."

She raised to him her soft blue eye,
And pushed from her brow the golden hair:
" A cottage shelter is hard by.

And safely will I guide thee there."

38

In her snow-white hand she lifts her lamp,
And he follows her through the deep morass ;

On the dark rank grass the dews are damp,
And black fogs hang o'er the dangerons pass.

" O maiden, pray, is the cottage nigh ?

For two long hours we've wandered here.''
She turns to him her soft blue eye —
"The cottage hearth-fire blazes near."

And on through the deep morass they toil,
And dark reeds wave a deadly shade,

And waters splash on the yielding soil.

And damp with dews the night-breeze played.

" The soil is soft, the airs are damp,

Lose not, fair maid, the way to-night ; "
But onward she points witli her fitful lamp —
" O the cottage almost is in sight."

But soon no more he heeds the way,
Enamored of the witching maid;

He follows her through the vapors gray.
And through the rank grass' deadly shade.

BALLADS. 39

And on througli deep dense fogs tliey roam,
And broad black lakes around them lie ;

Forgets he friends, and hearth, and home,
To follow the maid with the soft blue eye.

So, huntsmen ! who at twilight pass
Late by the deep morass, and see

A maid sit in the dark rank grass,
With a rush-light burning fitfully ;

Heed not her words, nor look in her eyes —
For they whom she guides through the foggy
pass.

Forget soon friends, and home, and ties,
For the witching maid of the morass.

40 BAILADS.

TAWASENTHA LAKE.

O'ilJ Trep <p'uWo}y 'yej'eT), roiij Sk Kal a.vdp€iit.

TTjAefloiiJcra (fyef, eapos 5' £Triylyt>eraL (jipt] '
"CIS audpuv yiveT]^ 7] jxkv (pveiy 7] 5' airoX^yei.

Weaeilt I wake and listen,
"Wearily the moonbeams glisten

On tlie thousand roofs and towers ;
Shadows black and sharp move slowly
O'er the pavements, through the holy

Silence of the midnight hours.

Past the portals of the wealthy
Creeps some footstep slow and stealthy-
And the great clock's eye of fire

BALLADS. 41

Througli the sleeping city's mazes
Like a spirit witness gazes
From its solitary spire.

But my eyes are ever turning

To the opening door, are yearning

Ever towards the opening door ;
'Tis the stranger enters ever,
Ah ! the feet I long for, never,

Never cross my threshold more.

On my brow a soft touch lingers,
'Tis the gentle stranger's fingers,

Not the hands I clasped of yore ;
'Tis the stranger looks upon me,
"With the self-same eyes that won me

In the days that are no more.

A sweet vision bends above me —
Pray thee, leave me then or love me,

For my heart is sick with woe ;
Dreaming of the loved and cherished,
Dreaming of the lost and perished,

Dead and buried, long ago.
4*

42 BALLADS.

But the vision fair and saintly

Fades ; a pale gray streak creeps faintly

On the blank wall and the door ;
And I think of cold gray morning
O'er far Tawasentha dawning,

Dawning on the pebbly shore.

Thin white mi.its roll up the valley,
O'er the great elms' tangled alley

Sounding wilh the gushing spring ;
O'er the mimic isles and billows —
The mossed seat beneath the willows,

"Where we heard the robin sing.

There in dreamy noontide, over
Knee-deep grass and scented clover,

Wavy shadows come and pass ;
There the laden bee rejoices.
And the merry children's voices

Gathering bhie-bells in the grass.

Oft when eastward the long shadows

Of the poplars streaked the meadows,

Have I crossed the little bridge ;

BALLADS. 43

Through the forest-walk with beeches
Musical and dark, that reaches
Winding to the northern ridge.

Far — a dark line, lay the river —
Broad and ripening grain-fields quiver,

As the light breeze wanders through ;
And the hills beyond, extended.
Blue and bluer, until blended

With the calm, eternal blue.

Sweetly chimes the distant vesper,
Sweetly rises love's own Hesper

O'er the homestead on the brink-
While at times from out the thicket
The soft carols of the cricket

On the warm air rise and sink.

Ah ! even like that scene elysian
All the future's golden vision

Spread before my dreaming eyes ;
Sweet the home of love and duty —
Fair the far-off hills of beauty

Towering, blending with the skies.

44 BALLADS.

Hark ! where dust with dust is lying,
"Wakes a dreary whisper, sighing :

Vain the fond heart's hope and scheme ;
All the light its promise lendeth,
When the night of death desoendeth.

All — is but an idle dream.

Hark ! from yon unseen dominions,
'Tis the sweep of seraph pinions,

'Tis the word of surety —
All the bliss this life but dreameth,
"When the eternal morning beameth

Will be made reality.

BALLADS. 45

THE MAREsTEE.

When day along the ^gean deep

His parting glory flung,
A maid on Samos' sunny steep

Wove sedgy wreaths and sung :

"Swiftly roll, O blue, blue sea;
Sweetly smile, blue skies above ;
Safe, ye breezes, back to me
Waft the bark that bears my love.

" Long ago our hearts were plighted,
Then I trusted him to thee.
Soon again to be united.
Swiftly roll, blue, blue sea! "

46 BALLADS.

Sudden from the rook she gazed,
Sees she 'neath the deep blue wave

A pale face to hers upraised —
Pale and solemn as the grave.

Sea-green were those floating tresses,
Decked with sea-flower and with shell,

A soft voice her ear addresses —
But she knows that voice too well :

" Cease, my love, and weep no more
Vain for me thy prayers arise,
Far on Snli's roolvy shore.

Wrecked, my shattered vessel lies.

" Now I dwell in coral chamber,

Fairest nymphs around me throng,
Wreathe my locks with shells and amber,
Murmur soft a lulling song.

"Yet are their caresses cold.

And I swam the wide blue sea
Once more my Samos to behold,

Onco more to speak a word with thee.''

BALLADS. 47

No more his tale she hears him tell,

Slides she from the steep,
In coral cell with her love to dwell,

Far in the blue, blue deep.

48 BAIXAJDS.

THE WANDERER.

Leagtje on league steadily

Oleaving the moonlit sea,
Northward, away, swift the stout vessel's flight ;

On her deck cannon gleamed,

Flags and torn ensigns streamed.
Spoils she had won ia the sturdy sea-flght.

Loud the carouse and laugh.

Red is the wine they quafl:",
As that day's heroes recount on her deck,

How with the foeman's mast

Grappled she fierce and fast,
How hei' tough heams quivered over the wreck.

BALLADS. 49

Bending above the prow,

Lone, and unlistening now,
He whose voice ruled in the thunderous fray,

Hears not his vaunted name.

Heeds not the deathless fame
Won where the cannon's bfeath blackened the

The sea below — the stars above —

The plash before the prow —
'Tis to the music-touch of love

His spirit vibrates now ;

He sees the face of his fair young bride.
His home by the northern sea ;

The parting that was — the joy, the pride.
The meeting that Is to be.

• League on league steadily,

Hour by hour peacefully.
Westward the moon and one star with her sails ;

Far through the northern air.

Pale grows the Greater Bear,
Pale grows the Lesser — the polar star pales.

3

50 BALLADS.

Still with the ruahing wave

Mingles the martial stave,
Loud blows the bugle blast forth on the night —

Still bending o'er the prow,

Lone and unlistening now,
He whose eye oalmlybeamed o'er the sea-fight.

He sees the face of his fair young bride,
His home by the northern sea,

The parting that was— the joy, the pride,
The meeting that is to be.

Hark ! 'twas the seaman's cry — •

Ho ! land ho ! cheerily —
And colder breezes ruffle the sea.

From the ice-fields rushing forth ;
Through the morning twilight, far to lee.

The mist-robed giant cliffs stand out —

Lflie northern gods in council rout,

When Asgard echoes with the shout ;
They look o'er the foam and froth ;

Merrily ho ! cheer merrily !
Tis the snow-land of the north.

BALLADS. 51

Merrily, madly tho white caps dance,

Like a reed does the staunch mast bow,
Swift as an eagle's pinions glance

Bound swoops the gallant prow.
By the light-house — by the sunken ledge —

By the cliffs and the sleeping town — ■
The cheers are given and drained is the pledge.
And manned are the boats to the water's edge,

As deep drops the anchor down.

The reedless pools below.

And the moorlands frozen lie ;

From the pines black 'gainst the sky
Oomes the "caw-caw" of the crow.

The sun sets red, and pours

A flood of glory broad and brief
On the line of breakers on the reef.

The breakers on the shore.

It slants up the snow-deep land.

And gleams like a star to the taU church vane.
And burns like fire on the cottage pane

That looks o'er the. lonely strand.

52 BALLADS.

The wanderer stands in his silent hall-
No face of welcome does he meet,
He only hears his footstep fall,

And he hoars his own heart beat ;
And answering to the deep sea's tone
That comes disconsolate and lone.

The old clock ticking from the wall-
Warning, as it warned of yore,
All who step the threshold o'er
And hear it heedlessly —
Time is — time is no more —
Time is eternity I

The curtained room is hushed and chill ; there lies

What will not move or speak —
Where is the welcome to illume those eyes ?

The blush to warm that cheek?

Where of this soul bereaved the earthly aU-

Its hope and joy of yore ?
O dust and ashes ! 'neath the funeral pall.

In the dread nevermore !

BALLADS. 53

Slow tte northern constellations wheel

Eound the polar star,
Lurid dance the northern fires and reel

O'er the waste afar.

On the white shroud glares' the taper white-
Glares the white face o'er —

One last night beside her, one long night,
And then — nevermore !

To and fro
In the church-tower swings the sullen bell,

"Wearily the bearers go,

With a weary breath they pass, and slow.
To the hollow and doleful knell.

Out into the cold crisp air —
Out from the walls her smile has blessed.
Over the threshold her feet have pressed,

A cold still thing they bear.

54 BALLADS.

A pale blue wintry sky ;
An icy glare round the church-yard stone,
Down into the grave a dead leaf flits,
A little snowbird shivering sits
By the churoh-yafd gate alone ;

The long procession halting there —
O loved and loving, more than friend,
O loving heart-friend, bride and wife !
Is this the end ?
Calm, solemn floats upon the air,
" I am the Resurrection and the Life."

A sinking coifin — a long dull sound
Of a voice's monotonous tone —

A rattling rope — a fall of ground ;

Slowly is heaped the little mound ;

The dead and the living are left alone.

Twilight sinks on the roaring beach,

Longer the lengthening shadows reach.

Sea-fogs rise and sweep like ghosts

From the restless sea o'er the long bleak coasts.

The owl from the forest bare and high

Prolongs her melancholy cry,

BALLADS. 55

And Sii'ius looks from tlie eastern hill
On tlie little churcli-yard white and still,
All sheeted in its snow-shrond save
That one dark spot — ^the new-made grave.

In joy — in gloom have rolled away
The years since that cold hurial day ;
With summer blossoms teems the dell,

And 'neath the west wind's quickening powers
The wastes of water heave and swell.

And bloom forth into snow-^white flowers ;
And o'er the surge
A spirit voice, low, sweet, intones a dirge.

The cricket hums his drowsy tune,

Through thick boughs peers the cold wan moon

On the stained and fallen headstone ;
Athwart the rank grass drearily
The northern ocean wearily

Sends a deep thunder moan.

56 BALLADS.

A story 'tis of days long gone —

That beauteous bride, that marriage morn,

That cottage by the sea.
Where fancy in the hearth-fire blaze
Wrought many a shape for coming days,
. All — save what was to be.

That hallowed jilace where thou didst kneel
To give in love, for woe or weal,

Thy gentle heart and hand ;
There strangers kneel and strangers pray.
And one, alone, far — far away.

Is in a stranger's land.

In glittering robes he stands, and to
The gorgeous altar's golden glow

He lifts the consecrated cup ;
Amid the fume of censer fires —
The blaze of ligh.ts — the chanting choirs —

An image from his heart floats up.

BALLADS. 57

It whispers softly — nought can change
The soul, nor lessen nor estrange

Love on that blissful shore,
"Where in a blest eternity,
The loving unto death, shall be

The loving evermore.

58 BALLADS.

JUNE EVENING.

"Earn S' cJttt; i/vv etrri.

Daek and broad swelled the river's breast,
Tbe full moon hung o'er the eastern bill,
While the uplands and the downs were still

On fire with the red and burning west.

From the town below rose loud and sweet

The vesper chime, a voice of love.

While the barracks that crowned the hill above
Were loud with the fife, and the drum's quick
beat.

BALLADS. 59

But to my soul from the far-off past
Ever a voice read soft and low,

Of the Argive host, ftod the Thraoian hlast,
Ajad the maid that perished long ago.

And in my ears — an echo afar—
Ever an old Greek chorus rung.
Ever the song of fate it sung —
" As things are, even so they are."

Bright and hrighter the moon looked down
Till molten gold glowed the river's flood,
The red fire died in the western wood,

And lights gleamed up from the sUent town.

And far away stretched dim and dark.

The uplands and do^\'n3 'neath the misty sky ;
And nought was heard save the bull-frog's cry,

Or the distant watch-dog's ceaseless bark.

The visions of the far-off past,

They paled — they faded into gloom.

That voice grew fiiint, and died at last.
Even to the silence of the tomb.

60 BALLADS.

Yet in my ears — an echo afar —
Ever the old Greek chorus rung,
Ever the song of fate it sung,
"As things are, even so they are.'"

BALLADS. 61

DIRGE OF ADONIS.

'A Se TaKaiva
Zdo)^ Ka\ 6e}iv ^|U/i], Koi oh S6yafJi.al (Te SL<^K€iy,
' BioN.

Immoetai in thy loveliness and youtli

Thou art — my lover and my friend ;

And thy love's oath — "True even unto the end,"
The end hath sealed its truth.
I shall not day by day '

Behold thy beauty waste away —

The bright looks whitening o'er the wrinkled
brow —
Nor old age steal at length
The spirit's pride and strength,

62 BAXLADS.

Nor tlie warm heart grow cold
And wither in the fold
Of mine — aye changeless as thyself art now.

Ah — woe is me !

Mine immortality
Hath sundered us — I may not follow thee.

Thine eyes' last look in mine
Was all joy's fulness, and the press

Of thy caress —
Thy lips' last touch all fire and tenderness —

Mingling a goddess' soul with thine; —
Then parted — fading from each other's sight

Into the brightness of the morrow'spromise,
As fades some heavenly vision from us
Into the splendor of the heavenly light.
Ah! fiirewell hourl
Ah ! had some power
Prophetic warned it was the fatal hour 1
Ah — woe is me I
Mine immortality
Hath sundered us — I may not foUow thee.

BALLADS. 63

The summer day went by —
I saw thee lie
Before my feet — cold, beauteous marble form.
I spoke not — wept not — but the warm
Life currents in their fount grew still and

frore.
A fixed forevermore unchanging grace
Was on that tranquil face,
And by that look of loveliness I knew
My soul's intense, deep love and reverence grew
Fixed — changeless evermore.

And through the gloom.
The cloud-wrapt tomb.
And through infinity —
And through eternity —
I seek thee, yearning, longing wearily —
And still I find thee not, and still I yearn —
All ! for one hour's return !
Ah — woe is me !
Mine immortality
Hath sundered us — I may not follow thee.

64

O liappy mortals ! when you weep above
Some clierished grave,
Be comforted — your human love
At least can die with what it could not save.
But me I
Ah — "woe is me !
Mine immortality
Hath sundered us — I may not follow thee.

^iline own— all mine !
The costliest shrine
Where kneeling crowds burn incense to my name,

And my dread power proclaim,
Less sacred is to me than this poor spot
Where all /worshipped — is? — ah, no! — is not.
Ah— woe is me !
Mine immortality
Hath sundered us — I may not follow thee.

No longer can earth give
To me a hope or bliss ;
In thy dim shadowy world with thee I live.

And see like far-off things the events of this.

65

When summer morning floods
With rose hues the cleft ridges and dense woods,

When dews are glittering on the grass,
And with fleet step the huntress Oreads pass,

And through the dells is borne

The music of the horn,
Then do I wander lonely and forlorn —
O'er the lone mountains like a dream I flit.

When shadows shroud the brake.
And thousand birds their glad night-carols sing,

And from the low deep-hidden lake
Oomes np the plashing of the swan's white wing,

I fold my hands and sit
Lonely and desolate where thou dost lie —
Lonely and longing for the power to die —

I sit and dream what may not be.
Ah — woe is me !
Mine immortality

Hath sundered us — I may not follow thee.

66 BAIXADS.

BAGATELLE.

1st Voice.

Meehilt steer ! while the ocean waves
Are bright with the morning glow —

Who cares for the rocks and the coral caves
And the lurking sands below !

2d Voice.

Yet deep where the coral bowers are reared,
Are couches of sea-weed pale —

Where many a seaman that merrily steered,
Sleeps on through calm and gale.

BALLADS. 61

1st Voice.

Merrily steer ! while blue is the sky,
Ho — ho ! for the foamy crest I

"Who thinks of the tempest's lightning eye
In its lair afar, at rest I

2d Voice.

Yet the tempest marks from his sullen lair
His prey on the sounding sea —

Merrily steer, while the skies are fair,
Too soon they may darkened be.

68 BALLADS.

THE VIKING.

The southern sunbeam colder grew
As it gleamed on the narrow floor,

The black stones wet with prison dew —
His death-wounds red with gore.

His chains grow heavy where they lie,
His heart beats faint with loss.

And a film steals o'er his cold proud eye
As the friar uplifts the cross.

Without the moat, through the palm grove tall.

Float the light gale's melodies;
Feebly his wan hand beats the wall —

69

Not the hooded friar does he hear or heed —

Nor the whispered prayer, nor the dropping
bead;
But he hears the far-off waterfall
Through the Norland's mountain gorges call —

And the rush of the Norland breeze ;
Death's shadows fold him like a paU,

And his dreams are memories.

Through the dew-drenched forest of the North

Slants down the day's excess,
On the woodwalk and the streamlet's froth

Deep in the wilderness^
The breath of blossoms sweet breathes forth

To the bahny air's caress.

I feel, my love, thy presence near —
Thy soft heart beating warm,

Thy voice, my love, rings in my ear
The music of its charm,

The touch of thy soft white hand is here,
The cling of thy soft white arm.

70 BAXLADS.

Without the moat they come and go —
The palm grove's fairy chime.

He hears not the kneeling friar speak low
The words of a hope sublime ;

But the wan hand on the wall beats time

To the harp-striag's prelude ere the flow
Of the saga's runic rhyme.

Loud is the wassail bout — •

The night-hours wax toward morn,
Mead froths like a foamy cataract out
From flagon and drinking horn.
Down from the walls in the torchlight glance
Reindeer antlers, and hauberk and lance
In many a battle borne ;
Skalds scream heroic runes
Fiercely to tlie northei-n tunes ;
Harpers old chant staves
Of heroes from the !N"orsemon sprung,
"Who blood-red flags to the storm-blast flung—
Then slept in blood-red graves.

BALLADS. 71

Silence falls on voice and string,
An envoy from the Norsemen's king

Stands in the midst, my name
He shouts — " Art thou not he who swore
Long since by Odin and by Thor

To do a deed of fame —
To sail, and never, neveir more-
Look on thine own, thy country's shore.
Till thou hadst hunted from the sea ,

The foe whose deeds of bravery

Have wrought thy country's shame ? "

My merry crew all — come throng to me —
"We swear once more by Odin's head.
An oath in Asgard registered —

This night we put to sea.

Without the moat, through the pahn grove tall,
The southern breeze makes moan,

Fainter the lessening sunbeams crawl
Up the cold black prison stone,

V2

Still feebly the wan hand beats the wall —
He hears not the friar's low accents fall,
But the roar of the surf on the sand beach poured,
The thunder of the far fiord,
And the ocean's monotone.

O'er the dark blue wave away — away-
League on league, and day on day.
And month on month, afar and nigh
A barren sea, a barren sky,

Till the salt-sea foam we loathe ;
Now with the full sail merrily,
N"ow with the slow oar wearily ;
"We had sworn a direful oath.

Our midnight lamps of seal oil burn,
The hurricane fierce rushes down on our stern,
We scud before it away — away —
In morning's gray
Athwart our bow
Looms up the black hull of the foe.
We bear down on lier, lock the mast,

BALLADS. 73

The torn spars shiver —

The strong keels quiver —

We grapple fast.
Then cutlasses flashed and blood leapt forth —
The shook of bucklers, and the hail
Of thick strokes rattling on the mail —
The slippery deck was heaped with dead ;
No groan came from the men of the North
As their souls to Walhalla sped.

The foe give way —
No cry for quarter — ^the last we slay —

The long swell lifts

The wreck that drifts
Lumbered with corses white and red.

Without the moat still through the palm

The gales sing melodies ;
He hears not the friar's low-murmured psalm,
But his hand beats time to the plashing calm

Of the prow through the midnight seas.
Hark ! 'tis the helmsman's cry —
Afar to leeward we espy
4

74

The beacon light

That cleaves the night.
From the headlands where the hoarse surf broke
Tall red flames streaked the shifting waves,
And fitful gleamed ia the spray-washed cave?,
And overspread the Norland sky
With wreaths of gusty smoke.

The hand that grasps the wall grows numb,
O'er the swimming eyes does a blackness come,
The world in its funeral pall lies dumb-
On lurid snow-drift and on lurid main

The northern fires burn red ;
Why lead me to this snow-deep, frozen plain,

"Where sleep the Norland's dead ?

A little mound, a little cross hard by
To mark the slumberer's head —

O! all that loved me 'neatli the unpitying sky !
My own, ray darling dead !

BALLADS. 75

O never more ! O never more !
By Odin and by Frey and Thor,
"Will I behold my country's shore.

Up — up — my merry crew — throng to me,

Ours be a life of victory !
Oome swear with me once more, once more
By Odin and by Frey and Thor,

This night we put to sea.

The hand drops lifeless from the wall —

The chains clank on the stone —
May Christ have pity on us all —
The friar has crossed himself with a groan.
And shudders and prays with a trembling tone —
Miserere Domine !

V6 BALLADS.

THE ROSE WREATHS.

In a balmy vale of Paradise

With flowers and sunbeams briglit,

Two chei'ubs sat, and wove two wreaths
Of roses, red and white.

"For whom those wreaths of roses? "

A spirit passing said—
" Your locks are crowned already

With roses, white and red."

"Last night, with a brother clierub
We twain to earth went down,
And passed by a dingy alley
In a drear and dnsky town ;

BALLADS. 77

" There lay a suffei'iag beggar boy,
His couch the cold hard earth,
No food upon his fevered lip,
No fire upon liis hparth.

"And yet he smiled as we went by
So patient in his woe,
We wept for pity, nor could bear
To leave him there below.

" Andwe prayed to onr Creator
In His mercy and His love,
To take him from that dismal home
To dwell with ns above.

" Our loved Creator promised us
Before the midnight drear
Again should gather over him.
He should be with us here.

" One brother cherub waits below
To soothe him as he may.
Through the hunger and the weariness
Of this long suffering day ;

78 BALLADS.

" The wreaths are almost finished,
For night will soon be down
On the dark and dismal nlley
Of that drear and dusky town."

Night came down on the city

With its thousand forms of dread,

And ere the midnight peal rung out
The beggar boy was dead :

In the balmy vale of Paradise
Four chei-ubs sat that night,

Intoning hymns to God — and crov\ned
With roses, red and white.

HISTORICAL BALLADS.

- 80 BALLADS.

GusTAVUS Adolphus, of Sweden, was one of the most
beautiful characters in history. Schiller sajs : The
que?>tionabIe fame of a conqueror never tempted him to
unjust wars, but he never shrank from a just one. He
was the greatest general of the age, and the bravest sol-
dier in his army. His personal character was irreproach-
able, and lie strove to make his army the same. To sum
np £.11, he was a man and a Christian, a king and a hero.

The victory of Lutzeu was claimed by both Swedes and
Austrians ; but Wallenstcix, who led the latter, showed
his sense of defeat by an immediate retreat.

The guilt of Francis of Lauenberg has never been
proved, but his career excites strong suspicion. In early
youth he was at the Swedish court, and, for some impro-
priety, received reproof which he never forgave. He
afterwards entered the Imperial army; without any ap-
parent reason, ho left it, and attached himself to the
Swedes, and immediately on the death of Gustavus re-
turned again to his old master, Wallexstein.

BALLADS. 81

LUTZEN.

Alas, alas for Lutzen! the bloody field of death,
Where in onr good old cause was hushed full

many a noble breath !
Ours was the shout of victory, the weeping and

dismay —
For our Gnstavus' sacred life was offered up that

day.

How sullen rose the misty morn along the

Swedish train.
And hid from sight the long array of Austria and

Spain,

82 BALLADS.

The gallant counts of Italy, who left their south-
ern home

To side with Ferdinand and fight in the great
cause of Eome ;

And bands of plundering Poles and Croats, who
throng without rebuke,

Like vultures, to the bloody feast spread out by
Friedland's Duke.

O German land! r.inst thou pronounce without a
curse that name,

The tyrant of the thirty years that wrought thy
woe and shame ?

Think of the blazing villages, the trampled corn
and vines,

The cities sacked, the peasants slain, the mur-
dered Palatines !

But hark ! a shout ! see through the mist the
royal banners wave,

See riding through the ranks the king, the merci-
ful and brave,

So bold and wise in battle, so gentle when 'tis o'er,

And humbling still his kingly head the King of
kings liefore :

UALLADS. 83

He smiles upon the German host, his allies true

and tried,
Then tarns upon his Swedes a look of softness

and of pride —
" Mine own good Swedes ! 'twas not for gain oi'

glory in the strife
We left hehind us hearth and home and child

and sire and wife,
But 'twas to right the grievous wrong, the fet-
tered slave unbind.
For Grod and for his holy word, for freedom

and mankind ;
Now to the God of armies give glory while ye

may,
For in his hand He holds alone the issue of this

day."

He said — and knelt before his ranks ; and loud the

shout arose
With sounds of martial minstrelsy, and ere its

echoes close.
The mist rolls slowly from the field, and thunder

down amain
The Swedish cavalry and charge across the battle

plain.

84 BALLADS.

"God witli us!" and uur infantry drive well

their lances home —
" Jesu Maria ! " sounds along tht- imperial lines

of Rome.
The imperial lines give way like reeds wlien

northern tempests blow ;
The trenches captured are and turned against the

flying foe :
But Friedland rallies his bold troop*, tliey come

with wrath and wrack,
They press ns sore, they break our lines, they

drive the battle back,
The trenches are recaptured, the labor is undone;
A thousand bodies strew the field, yet not an inch

is won.

See ! toward the riglit, what messenger comes

spurring through they fray
To where amid the thickest din the king upholds

the day?
There, 'gainst our shock of cavalry the Croatian

charger rears.
And press against the flying Poles the Finland

cuirassiers :

BALLADS. 85

" O sire I the infantry is preassd and sorely calls
for aid,
And the left wing can scarcely bear the heavy
cannonade! "
" Enough — now Steinbach's regiment, now Fran-
cis Albert speed,"
And darts like lightning o'er the plain his flery-
footed steed!

But to the left they rally, and loud the war-cries

ring
"God with us!" — to the rescue — he comes, our

lord and king !
But to that cry exultant, what agony succeeds
As flies a bullet through the air — " Our lord,

our sovereign bleeds I "
" 'Tis nothing — on and follow me ! " the brave

Gustavus cried,
Then spoke in French to Lauenburg, who gal-
loped by his side —
" I pray thee, brother, lead my horse from out this

thick melee.
For should I fall, it well might fix the fortunes

of the day;

86 BALLADS.

I'm faint and sinking, guide me round unseen

toward tlie rigbt,
And spare my gallant regiments this soul-subdu-
ing sight."

Alas! thou Christian hero! thou brave and gentle
heart !

The din of battle closes round — -farewell ! depart —
depart!

What couch so meet to give thee rest as that red
field of strife,

"Where for thy God and for mankind was staked
thy gallant life ;

Thou, shrined in every human tongue, in every
human heart —

Thou glory to the name of king! farewell! de-
part — depart !

Still pressed the battle onward, and covered o'er
with foam

Still charged our cavalry along the serried I'anks
of Rome ;

Until with flanks all blood and frotli, and flying bit
and mane.

And riderless — our soverei;>;n's hoise came scour-
ing o'er the plain :

BALLADS. 87

From lip to lip, from heart to heart, the awful

taWis sped,
" Oar good Gustavus is no more ! — our king is

with the dead ! "

O, Francis, duke of Lauenberg ! a fearful charge

they bring —
Didst thou, in that melee, thyself strike down our

gi-acious king 1
For such a deed, that hell itself with shuddering

surveyed.
What hand and heart so fit as tliine, thou thrice a

reneotade 1

Duke Bernard rides before the lines, his kindling

eye is wet:
" Your king lies murdered on the field, his spirit
leads you yet !
Ho ! noble sons of Finland! ho, men in upland

bred!
Heroes of Leipzio and of Mentz — on ! and avenge
the dead !

88

Shall Spaniards triumph o'er the dust of your

anointed lord ?
Not while one Swedish arm can lift a musket or

a sword I "

Who yonder gallops o'er the field, and forms the

Austrian line ?
The iron demon of the fight, the haughty "Wallen-

stein.
A thousand fall, a thousand balls to his one

breast are sped,
Yet safe, alone, he gallops o'er the dying and the

dead;
Avenging furies shield that breast, and an

assassin's knife.
Not Swedish weapon, is foredoomed to end the

traitor's life.

Now through the thundering cannonade the

trump and shout rose high —
No thought of flight — our only word, to conquer

or to die !

BALLADS. 89

And round onr king with sliock and clash the

fiei'oe encounters close,
Till o'er his sacred dust is reared a pyramid of foes.
But who can tell what deeds were done ? There,

after feats sublime,
Fell Austria's bravest champion, the tiery Pnp-

penheim;
And hour by hour, and man to man, we fought

with might and main.
Till many a gallant regiment lay lifeless on the

plain.

So when the trumpet ceased, and the gloomy
night came on;

The foes had turned, the fight was o'er, tlie
bloody field was won :

And kneeling down bare-headed, our tears be-
dewed the sod.

And sobs and groans were mingled with praises
to our God ;

With praises to the Lord of Hosts, the avenger
of the wrong,

Who gives not honor to the proud, nor triumph
to the strong;
8*

90 BALLADS.

The Lord who counselled ia his love, and ordered

in his might,
That he who led us forth that mom should come

not hack at night.

Now Austria — claim the laurels ! now order,

Ferdinand,
Te Deums in Vienna, and through the Spanish

land!
But ours the dear-bought victory — the glory and

dismay.
For which our good Gustavus' life was offered up

that day 1

BALLADS. 91

LAMENT OF ABD-EI^EHAMAN.

VERSJFIED FROM A PROSE TRANSLATION.

Abd-el-Rh am an-b en-Hi xom, the first Moorish King of
Spain, 755 a. d., embellished Coi-dova with many beautiful
gardens ; in one of these he planted a palm tree, from which
it is said all the palm trees in Spain have sprung. It is said,
too, that one day fixing his eyes on this tree, and deeply
moved with the remembrance of his native land, he poured
forth these verses.

O STATELY palm ! across the main
Thy land and mine lies far from Spain ;
But thee, the western gales embrace,

The air is pure, the sunlight gleams,
No visions of thy native place

Sweep o'er thy troubled leaves in dreams ;

92

Thou knowest not Luman change and hate
Nor tremblest at the storms of fate.

When fierce Al Abbas' \Yrath of yore
Exiled me from my native shore,

My tears fell fast on many a palm

That by Euphrates' margin rose —
The trees still bloom, the waves run calm
And bear no record of my M'oes.
O palm, bloom on I in foreign lands
Thou weepest not for our native sands.

BALLADS. &3

FEANOIS II. AT GAETA.

Of all the I'ealm that owned thy sway
And called thee monarch yesterday,
Thou Bourbon King ! beside the sea
To-day what is there left to thee ?
One fortress, and the foeraan's din
Without, and pestilence within.

n.
There leave to meaner lives to man
The wall, and desperate sortie plan ;
And gloating o'er the gold — the wealth
Thy hasty flight bore off by stealth,
Forget the crown that scarcely graced
Thy brow, ere thenoe 'twas torn debased.

94 BALLADS.

And they who rent tlie high command

And sceptre from thy feeble hand —

Leave them but freedom and their swords,

They envy not the miser hoards

That buy a shelter and a grave

For thee and thine beyond the wave.

Where Vistula's far waters glide
Swift onward to the northern tide,
The sovereigns three in council meet.
In Poland's ancient royal seat,
Thou Bourbon King 1 there yet may be
A hope for tyranny and thee.

But no ! the sovereigns of the north
Lead not their marshalled armies forth
To snatch a spoil they may not share.
They make no second Poland where
Sardinian fleets at anchor ride
By Reggio's wall and Arno's tide.

BAI,LADS. 95

And kings may now with kings alone

Essay their strength and hold their own ;

But that tremendous human will

That makes and shatters crowns, their skill

Is powerless to control or quell,

As ocean's sand to curb her swell.

And fair Si cilia, once the den
Of Norman and of Saracen,
By turns upon her hills has seen
The Spaniard and the Anjouine ;
But never have her annals shown
A darker shadow than thine own.

Now on Sioilia's flowery sward
Merrily are libations poured ;
And maidens dance in Luna's light-
O ! gentle are those bosoms white.
Yet at thy name is scarce forborne
On those soft lips the curl of scorn.

96

And in the pnlaoe once thine own

A king is seated on a throne ;

And they that hated thee and thine,

And laughed at sovereigns' riglits divine,

Bear far his banners in the field

And make their own bold breasts his shield.

From north, and east, and south, see close
Still narrowing round, the belt of foes,
The mound is raised, and nigh and nigher
The battery points its mouths of fire.
And winged before the western breeze
Sardinia's prows make white the seas.

And midst them one at anchor lies
O'er which the Kaiser's eagle flies,
Thy country's tyrant once accurst,
He offers thee the last, the worst,
The shelter of her sable wing
To waft thee far, thou crownless king!

BALLADS. 97

Too long that lesson didst thou spurn
The Bourbons aye were slow to learn ;
Bent o'er the past's dead written word,
The present's livicg voice unheard,
With plain and earnest meaning fraught
That other kings more quickly caught.

The breaking of the feudal chain
Resounds through Eussia's broad domain,
And Holland half redeems the day
That gave her shores to regal sway :
Deemed'st thou the hills of sun and vine
"Were in perpetual bondage thine?

Away ! and when the dark blue sea

Rolls deep between thy land and thee,

Remember what thou wert and art

Till sickening sinks, subdued, thy heart.

And from another's reign serene.

Too late learn what thou might'st have been.

98 BALLADS.

Ix the caliphate of Omar, the second in succession from
the Prophet, the Saracens made the most rapid conquests.
The Emperor Hcraclius, fearful of losing Syria, sent Ma-
han (or Manuel) with the Greek and Roman forces to op-
pose them. It was a vain opposition. The final battle
which decided the fate of Syria was fought on the bauks
of the Yermouk; it lasted several days, and ended in the
total rout of the Christians. Khaled was the leader of
the Saracen host.

BALLADS. 99

THE BATTLE OF YERMOUK.
A. D. 636.

Allah Achbae ! the foes are near, down with tlie

Christian host !
In vain the Grecian phalanx forms, and Eoman

trumpets boast.
On Yerraouk's side — on Termouk's side where

loud the battle clangs,
To-day, O true believers, the fjtte of Syria hangs I

See yonder panoplies of gold, the purple-vested
steed,

'Tis the imperial Mahan, his haughty heart shall
bleed.

On Saracens ! soon their red crests in redder
blood we'll dye,

And their rich robes at Omar's feet shall in Me-
dina lie !

100 BALLADS.

Remember at Emessa how fiercely thundered

down
The Christians tothe fight, and fled, or fell before

their town.
Think of Damascus' roses, her golden river's

side,
The plunder of Abyla, and Baalbec's towers of

pride.

See Khaled's eagle banner floats, and blaze his

eagle eyes —
' See Paradise unfolds before ; behind, Jehennam

lies.
The H(ir-al-Oy{ln* wait for those that press to-day

the sod ;
Down with the dogs of infidels I there is no God

but God!

Soft are Arabia's melting maids and dark their

houri glance ;
For Islam's faith they wield to-day the soymitar

and lance.

* Houris.

BALLADS. 101

For God and for liis prophet charge ! shall men

give wa.j and yield,
When maids and mothers dare the shock, and

scour the bloody field ?

Far to the south do yElia's * walls their sacred

heads uprear.
And Christians count their beads and watch by

Jesu's sepulchre.
There soon the Koran shall be heard, and there

the muezzin's cry,
And from their towers yon yellow flag of Mahomet

shall fly.

Allah Achbar ! the foes are nigh, their arrows

hide the sun ;
How sweet the rest of Paradise when the good

fight is done !
On 1 to Jehennam speed their souls, their bodies

to the sod !
Allah Achbar ! the day is ours, there is no God

but God !

"Jerusalem.

102

The history of no country presents so entirely an aspect
of romance as the wars in Spain, waged for some cen-
turies between the Muors and Christians. The most des-
perate struggles, the most brilliant victories, the most
disastrous defeats, form one tissue with hair-breadth
escapes and personal reverses.

Conspicuous among the last is that of El Zagal, the
Moorish king of Granada, whose possessions were invaded
by Ferdinand. His capital, Granada, was being convuls-
ed, and his power undermined at the time by the factions
of his nephew, BoABDiL el Chico ; and with civil war
threatening close around, he appears not to have appre-
ciated the strength of the coming Christian foe, until
warned by the inspired santon, Hamet Aden Zarrax.

Afraid to leave his rival behind, and march out to meet
Ferdinand, who was about to invest the city of Velez
Malaga, he made a proposition to Boabdil, which was
declioed. Nothing remained, therefore, but to go him-
self; and his unfortunate return is one instance more
of the instability of a monarch's popularity.

BALLADS. 103

EL ZAGAL.

In Granada's marble street
Crowds the holy Hamet greet ;
'Tis the Moorish king he seeks,
To the Moorish king he speaks —
" Thou the name of king would'st boast,
Yet wilt see the kingdom lost.

" Lo ! from Cordova the band
Led by crafty Ferdinand
"Works Granada woe and loss,
Plants the banner of the cross
On Granada's strongholds, won
For Castile and Aragon.

104

"Where Bentomiz southward far
Looks on Velez Malaga,
Christian linights to battle call —
Thou within the Alhambra's hall
Idly sittest, contending still
With thy kinsman Boabdil."

Then the aged monarcli spate —
"Crown and throne will I forsake,
And to Boabdil will yield,
So he leads us to the field.
Let him rout the Christian horde,
And be called Granada's lord."

" Boabdil ! thy rival sends
And this factious contest ends ;
To tliy rule he deigns to yield ;
Thee will follow to the field ;
TTiou shalt rout the invading horde
And be called Granada's lord."

Bitterly the prince replied —
" Evil now my life betide.

BALLADS, 105

If 'tis placed his grasp within
Who hath slain my sire and kin —
Let him keep his crown and throne,
And go forth to fight alone."

Trumpets now have spread the alarms ;
There is huckling on of arms,
Neigh of steed and cymbal's din,
And the Moors come gathering in.
Twice ten thousand men in state
Set forth from Granada's gate.

And the royal town doth ring
"With the praises of the king ;
Brave El Zagal's deeds they vaunt —
Cowardly Boabdil they taunt ;
One goes forth the foe to find —
One, a dastard, lurks behind.

From Granada's topmost tower

Sentries look forth hour by hour ;

5*

106

Alfaquis and aged men
O'er the Vega strain their ken,
For the tidings from afar,
From fair Velez Malaga.

Scattered o'er the Vega ride
Messengers at eventide ;
"White with foam, with blood-drops red,
In the gate the steuds fall dead —
" "Woe — woe to Granada ! woe
For El Zagal's overthrow ! "

" In the night a tumult rose —
Each glen bristling was with foes;
Each crag was a bale-flre's glare ;
In the morning twilight, where
"Was El Zagal and his host ?
Vanished like a midnight ghost."

Then a Moor \ipro>e and said —
" Curses on El Zagal's head,
Who hath led to death and shame
Bravest MusKin — men of fame!

BALLADS. 10*7

From the throne the traitor fling !
Long live Boabdil our king! "

■' Boabdil 1 the people's call
Greets thee in the Albaycin's hall,
Thee our rightful lord we own,
Thine the sceptre and the throne.
Who El Zagal dares extol
In the dust his head shall roll."

All the Alhambra blazed with light.
For a king was crowned that night.
Moorish nobles — Alfaquis
Bring in pomp the city's keys ;
But without the gateway high
Four pale headless corses lie.

And that night, by Xenil's flow
A tired hoi-seman journeyed slow.
He — a king but yesterday
Leading armies to the fray.
Now with but a scanty train
AVanders o'er the hills of Spain.

108 BALLADS.

The battle of Kadesia took place in the 15th year of
the Hegira, a. u. 635, and " is as famous," sajs Irving
" among the Arabs, as that of Arbela among the Greeks."
It was one of the many, in which, according to the Mos-
lem creed, the end justified the means, and in which the
youthful monarch of Persia, Yezdigird, was called ou to
embrace Mohammedanism, or prepare for battle. He chose
the latter.

Saad, who succeeded Mosexxa in command, being una-
ble, from sickness, to lead his Moslem, host in person,
overlooked the field from his tent, where he sat with his
beautiful wife, the widow of Mosenna. Grieved at seeing
so many gallant warriors fall, the ejaculation escaped her,
*'Alas! Mosenna Ibn Haris, where art thou?" Saad,
stung by what he considered u reproach, struck her on
the face with his dagger.

109

MOSENNA.

Flushed Tvith proud advantage won,
Eustam leads his Persians on,
And the Moslems faint and yield
On Kadesia's bloody field.

Where art thou, Mosenna I

Twice the daylight set and rose
On the dead or grappling foes,
Allah Achbar is the cry —
Yet the faithful fall or fly,

Where art thou, Mosenna 1

110 BALLADS.

Who forgets the bold retreat
(.)'er Euphrates' gory sheet —
AVhen for Islam's sacred trust
Seven brave champions bit the dust?
Wliere art thou, Mosenna!

Then on Ilirah's field the rout
Rallied at Mosenna's shout,
Loud the cries of " Allah " swell.
By thy hand bold Mahran fell —

Where art thou, Mosenna !

Now, a ])anic fills the plain
Strewn with bravest Moslems slain;
See thy bride in shame and woe
•Jiitrageil by a cruel blow —

Where art thou, Mosenna!

Islam's banner wavers yet.
And the ranks of Mahomet
.Scorned by infidels and cursed.
Towards the desert are disprrocd —
Wlierc art thou, Mosenna!

BALLADS. Ill

Bat they rally ! Allah dart
Courage ia each sinking heart,
To the feet of Yezdigird
Chase his vain luxurious herd !

Where art thou, Mosenna !

Then shall every Persian hall
Echo to the Muezzin's call,
To Medina there shall toil
Caravans with Khosru's spoil.

Where art thou, Mosenna !

And his splendor shall be shorn,
And his empire shall be torn,
Even as he the letter tore
That the Prophet's envoy bore-
Where art thou, Mosenna!

Does the H{ir-al-Oyun's light
Charm, in Paradise, thy sight ?
Hiist thou there nor care nor tear
For great Allah's armies here ?

Where art tliou, Mosenna !

112

The crime of Hakem seems to have been reliance on
the word of Kaleb, a rebel in arms against the Moorish
king, Al-Moundhir. Kaleb had taken possession of To-
ledo, and Hakem \va§^sent b}' the king-with an army to
dispossess him. On their approach, Kaleb entered into
negotiations, and offered to retire, provided he was fur-
nished with mules and other means of transportation.
Hakem was deceived by the snare, saw Kaleb depart,
and himself returned to Cordova, to report his bloodless
victory. No sooner, however, was Kal^d left to himself,
than he repossessed himself of the city. The event oc-
curred in the latter part of the ninth century.

BALLADS. 113

HAKEM.

Thbjjb is spurring o'er the mountains, there is

riding far and fast,
And the echo of the horse-hoofs to Cordova has

There are letters for Al-Monndhir, and his brow

with anger lowers,
For Kaleb and his rebel host have taken Toledo's

towers.

Fiercely the Moorish monarch cried -"Whose

folly has wrought this?
Go drag the graybeard Hakem here, his headlong

rashness 'tis.

114 BALLADS.

I warned him that the rebels already false had

played,
Yet scorned he my advices, and a treaty with them

made."

" Hakeni ! the sovereign summons thee, with grief

and anguish sore,
For of fair Toledo captured the blame lies at thy

door ;
In vain thy long white beard will plead, in vain

thy labors done,
He longs to see thy hoary bead his palace gate

upon."

Halvem knew well the monarch's mood, nor dared

he longer stay ;
He mounts his steed to fly — and speeds through

Cordova away.
But in the gate the courser fell, and threw hira

lifeless down.
And when he wakened from his trance he met the

monarch's frown.

BALLADS. 115

The king in-fury spoke—" Thou well the rebels'

cause hast served
By thy imprudence, and the arm of order hast

unnerved ;
The blood that's spilt fall back upon thy head !

and let thy death
Teach men that law and wisdom wait upon a

monarch's breath ! "

" Great king ! I've served thee, as I served thy
sire for many a day ;

Twice twenty years of faithful toil have woi'n my
life away ;

If ill or errors have ensued that I could not fore-
see,

Still all I've done has been the best I knew for
Spain and thee."

Brave Hakem, little reck thy words! a fate

hangs o'er thy head ;
Didst thou not boldly dare to weep when Muha-

med lay dead ?

116 BALLADS.

Thy gentle rule do not tlie Moors love weU ? Shall

monarohs brook
The people shall on any but themselves with favor

look?

The guards have bound thee, and into the outer

court have ta'en,
And by the royal will their swords have rent thy

neck in twain ;
And all through Cordova is sound of weeping and

of dread,
To see fixed on the palace gate the hoary beard

and head.

The king stalks silent in his halls, and through
each street and way

The Moors come riding gloomily and armed for
bloody fray ;

And round the gates the old men meet in terror
whispering low,

As hour by hour comes spurring in some messen-
ger of woe.

TRANSLATIONS.

TRANSLATIONS. 119

TO SPRIITG.

CFKOM ANACRSON.)

See — before the appearing spring

Bounteous Graces scatter roses,
Ocean's billow — softening

To a calm — reposes.
See — the duck is on the stream,

And the crane is on tlie wing ;

Fleecy clouds fly quivering
From the sun's warm shining beam.
Now too shines man's patient toil
Where witli produce swells the soil.
Now puts forth the olive shoot,

Bacchus' cup is crowned ;
And o'erborne with ripening fruit

Leaves and branches sweep the ground.

120 TEANSLATIOIS^S.

TO THE ROSE.

(FROM ANACRHON.)

Rose ! the Lovea' own rose !

Mingle witli the wine we're quaffing I
Rose of beauteous leaves that blows,
Binding round our temples close

Drink we, gaily laughing.
Rose of beauty rare !
Rose, spring's tenderest care 1
Even the gods pronounce thee fair.
Roses Venus' son entwining
Round his curling locks and shining

With the Graces linked, advances.
Crown me, then, and near thy shrine
Playing, O thou god of wine.

Where the rich-robed maiden glances,
In wreathed roses will I shine,

And adorned, lead up the dances.

TRANSLATIONS. 121

FROM HEOUBA.

(Chorus of Captive Trojan Women.')

BTHOrilE I.

O, Ilium I Ilium ! thon no more art called

The city of the unoonqnered ! A dense cloud
Of Greeks enveloped thy devoted wall,

And "with the spear lay waste thy bulwarks
proud ;
Thy orown of towers is shorn, the woful stain
Of ashes has begrimed that pleasant plain
These hapless feet shall press — O, ne'er again I

122 TRANSLATIONS.

ANTISTEOPIIE I.

At dead of night I perished, wlien upon

The eyes, sweet slumber, from long feasting,
falls;

My lord, the songs and sacrifices done.

Lay on his couch, his spear hung on the wall ;

He sees not the strange nautic crowd that meets

In Ilium's silent and deserted streets.

STEOPHE II.

I the gold mirror's dazzling circle eyed,
My tresses in enclasping tillets bound

For night — and on my downy pillow's side
Just was I sinking for repose profound.

When hark ! throughout the city far and wide
The air was filled with a tumultuous sound —

A voice through Troy resounded — " Sons of
Greece !

When will ye raze these towers and seek your
homos in peace? "

TRANSLATIONS. 123

ANTISTEOPHB 11.

In single vesture my dear couch I left

Even as a Doric maiden to adore
Great Artemis. Ah hapless I — ^bereft

Of safety ! ere my orison was o'er
I was torn thence, my bridegroom in his gore
I saw, they dragged me weeping to the shore —

The vessel lifts its anchor swift, and flies.

And Ilium's walls fade from my fainting eyes. ,

O be the name forevermore accursed

Of the Idean, and accursed be

The Diosouri's sister ! o'er the sea,
The salt sea foam,
Ne'er may she greet again the land that nursed
Her childhood, nor re-tread her beauteous home.
Her false, false bridal, wrought out by some hand

Of vengeful destiny, beyond the deep
Exiles me from my native land,

And seals my eyes in unawakening sleep I

124 TEAKSLATIONS.

CHORUS FROM HECUBA.

Gaie of the sea, gale of the sea,

"Wafting the swift harks o'er the surge
Bounding on from verge to verge
Of ocean's wave !
Whither so swiftly bearest thou me ?
To what home — ah haplessly —

Do I go — a purchased slave ?

To the Doric port, to the Phthian shore,
Where Apidanus' stream, they say.
Through rich plains winds its beauteous way?

"Whither, away — with the maritime oar?

TRANSLATIONS. 125

Or to that isle where the palm first sprung

And (emblems of the birth divine)
The laurel's hallowed branch first clung

Round loved Latona's shrine ?
There shall 1 weeping, wear away
My soul in slavery's woful day,
There sick at heart amid a throng
Of Delian nymphs, intone in song
Immortal Artemis the chaste,
"With bow and golden fillet graced ?
Or in Athenian halls to ply

The labors of the gorgeous loom,
And make, on robes of saffron dye,

The varied flower-wrought broideries bloom —
Depicting Pallas onward whirled —

Her steeds — her beauteous chariot's sweep,
Or Titans, by Zeus' thunder hurled
To their eternal sleep ?

Alas, my children ! and alas, my sires !

Alas, my country ! how deplored — how dear I
In sable smoke thy glorious day expires.

Thou desolated by the Argeian spear !

126 TRANSLATIONS.

Far from thy strand
A captive am I borne o'er ocean's wave,
And leave thee too, my fatherland.
Like me — a slave !

Farewell!
Far over ocean's swell,

beauteous Asia ! Europe's slave, farewell-

1 leave my bridal chamber for the grave I

TRANSLATIONS. 127

FROM A OHOEUS IN ALOESTIS.

Datt&htee of Pelias! farewell, farewell!

The sunless halls of Dis receive thy tread.

But let the dark-haired monarch of the dead
And the grim, silent ferryman of hell,

Who sits intent on rudder and on oar,

"Wafting the spectres to the sable shore,
Know how beloved, how sweet, how chaste a

bride
To-day floats o'er the Acheronian tide.

Thee shall the servants of the Muses sing,
The seven-toned lute shall on the mountains
sound,
And soft hymns rise when silent sleeps the string

128 TEANSLATIONS.

In Sparta, when, the annual circle crowned,
The season brings the Oarnean feast around ;

And through the livelong night the moonbeams
rest

On Athens — the magnificent and blest.

O that my voice could reach thee on the shores
Of darkness where the hoarse Cocytus roars !
O that my tears could touch thee in the hall

Of Hades, and recall thy steps above.
As thou — O unexampled ! didst recall

Thy bridegroom peerless in thy death and love !

The mother shrinking from the realms unknown,
And hoary-headed sire the quest deny.

She in the pride of youth and joy alone
Eefused not for her best beloved to die.

TEANSLATIOKS. 129

FEOM A CHOEUS IN ALCESTIS.

Upboenb far through the Muses' land

And touching many a theme,

I leax-n, 'tis but an idle dream
'Gainst Destiny to stand.

O not the Thraoian tablets that of old

Orpheus deigned engrave,

Nor the medicinal drugs Apollo gave
To Esoulapins' children — hold

A charm to save.

To her dread altars are no offerings sent.

To tliem no footstep turns —

Before her sculptured form no knee is bent.

The sacrifice she spurns.
6*

130 TRANSLATIONS.

And thee, Admetus ! thee a fate most dread
Inevitable grasps — yet bear — nor weep,

Tears will not wake the dead —
Lo ! in the grave the god-begotten sleep.

For thee did earth's most beauteous blossom
bloom,

How loved in life ! how worshipped in the tomb !

Count not that tomb as a cold dead stone

That covers a cold dead dust ;
Tliither shall come the pilgrim lone
As to some god's pure shrine, and own

Her name with prayer and trust.
And travellers turning from their way
"Will kneel by I he hallowed place and say —
" In olden time she perished for her lord,
And now on high
She sits adored —
Hail ! be propitious, blest Divinity I "

TEANSLATIONS. 131

HAEALD THE VALIANT.

AnouND Sicilia'a fertile shore

My brown ship filled with warriors brave,
In splendid state, with sail and oar

Skimmed rapidly the wave.
I thought my sails for fight arrayed

Would never slacken on the main ;
And yet — and yet a Russian maid

Looks on me with disdain.

With Drontheim's hosts in youth I fought,
Unequal battle did we wage,

Superior odda the foeman brotight
And fearful was the rage.

132 TEAJfSLATIONS.

Young as I was, my trusty blade

Left their bold monarch mid the slain ;

And yet — and yet a Russian maid
Looks on me with disdain.

One day, twice eight we were on borrd,

A tempest rose and swelled the sea,
The waves upon our vessel poured,

'Vi'e cleared it faithfully ;
Thence brightest hopes around me played ;

Alas! that brightest hopes are vain 1
And yet — and yet a Eussian maid

Looks on me with disdain.

Eight exercises I perform —

On horse I boldly scour the field,
I bravely meet the battle storm,

And lance and oar can wield ;
I swim the breakers undismayed.

And skim on skates the frozen plain,
And yet — and yet a Russian maid

Looks on me with disdain.

TRANSLATIONS. 133

"What maid or widow can deny —

When southward of the city height,
As ruddy moruing strealied the sljy^

Closed in the ranks of fight,
I bravely fought ? rich trophies paid

My prowess gainst the hostile train,
And yet — and yet a Russian maid

Looks on me with disdain.

In Norway's uplands was I horn

Where well the warriors bend the how,
Now trembling landsmen mark at dawn

My anchored ships below.
Their keels have many a furrow laid

In oceans, far from man's domain,
And yet — and yet a Eussian maid

Looks on me with disdain.

134 TBAJSrSLATIONS.

THE FUNERAL SONG OF HAOON.

GoNDtiL— lo ! and Soogul wait,
Mighty goddesses of fate,
Sent by Odin's mandate fortli
Mid tlie sovereigns of tlie north
One of Tngvon's race to call
To the eternal banquet hall.

They Biorno's brother found
All unai-med on battle ground ;
His proud banner shades him o'er,
Fast the foemen fall before.
Brandished swords flash in the sun,
And the conflict is begun.

Haleyg's dwellers does he call —
And the island dwellers all ;

TRANSLATIONS. 135

Prince-destroyer, see him ride
Witli his Norsemen by his side,
'Neath his helmet grim he smiles
Waster of the Danish isles.

The brave king had on the field
Thrown his golden casque and sliield,
With the princes — sons of fame —
Mingling in heroic game.
When the battle's thunder-tone
Called him forth to guard his throne.

See the king's good weapon pass
Through the mail and through the brass
As through mountain streams 'twere sent ;
Javelins clash, stout shields are rent,
On the helmet and the brain
Deadly strokes come down like rain.

Tyr and Bauga ! gods of war !

Lo ! your javelins shivered are.

Lo! in Storda's isle they join.

And the kings break through the line —

136 TRANSLATIONS.

Through the fence of shields that stood,
Staining them with human blood.

Swords wax hot, red wounds distend,
O'er men's lives tlie long shields bend.
Spears on Storda's reeking shore
Eed the battle deluge pour ;
On that promontory high
Heaps of wounded warriors lie.

Gory wounds they scorn, they toil
Wrestling for the battle spoil.
Fiercely rages Odin's storm,
Still the blood runs swift and warm.
Still hot swords their labors ply,
Still the many heroes die.

Then the chiefs sate on the field —
Blunted sword and shattered shield —
Cloven were their coats of mail
Where the arrows fell like hail.
No more dares the host to hope
Will Walhalla's portals ope.

TKANSLATIONS. 137

Gondul on her lanoe leans near,
And she speaks these words of cheer :
" ISTow the gods' eternal feast
They decree shall be increased —
Hacon and his host I call
To the eternal banquet hall."

Those fair nymphs does Hacon hear,
Seated on their war-steeds near.
Clothed in helmet and in shield,
Full of thought they scan the field.

Hacon speaks — " goddess, say,
Why thus close the battle day.
With more glorious fate unblest ? "
Scogul answers—" Be at rest ;
By my hand thy foes undone,
See thy fame and triumph won.

" Sister — sister — swiftly ride
Through the gods' green empires wide,
To all-potent Odin say
Hacon treads the lonely way."

138 TRANSLATIONS.

Thus commands the all-potent — "Speed-
Brago and Hermode, lead —
Lead the approacliing warrior guest,
Hail him to the halls of rest."

Now the king within the hall
Stands hesprent with carnage all,
Sees the mighty Odin near —
Odin terrible — severe.

Brago greets him — " Fear not thou —

Thine are peace and glory now.

Here with gods and heroes pour

Brimming mead forevermore.

Lo ! within Walhalla's gate

Thee thine eight hold brethren wait."

Hark ! the hero's proud behest —
" Leave my hauberk on my breast;
Ooat of mail and helmet fair
Ever should the warrior wear.

TRANSLATIONS. 189

And the good sword of the North
Eeady ever to leap forth."

Now is seen how well that heart

Bore in life its noble part.

The great conclave of the skies

And the lesser gods uprise,

The new guest with shouts they greet,

And prepare an equal seat.

Blest the monarch's day of birth
When even gods revere his worth ;
Even the age that saw his fame
Shares the memory of his name.

Through the world, through man's domains,
The wolf Feuris freed from chains
Fearful revellings shall hold,
Ere a king so good, so bold,
Treads again the lonely road
Leading to the gods' abodes

140 TEANSLATIONS.

Riches perisli ; dust in dust
Sleep the kindred hearts we trust ;
Kingdoms wasted meet their doom ;
Many nations sit in gloom ;
With the gods does Haoon dwell,
Glorious — inaooessible.

TEAUSLATIONS. 141

NOTE TO HARALD.

Harald Hardeaada, who reigned ia Norway in the
11th centurj, a poet as well as a king, during a warlike
expedition which he made to Sicily, the Euxine Sea, and
Africa, composed a poem which consisted originally of
sixteen verses. The Bvssian Maid was Elizabeth,
daughter of Jaeizlato, king of Holmgard, a princess
whom he afterward married.

It was this same Haeald who, after the death of Ed-
•WAED the Confessor, invaded England, and was killed in a
battle near York. His poetic genius did not desert him
at the last, for it is said that just entering into tbc engage-
ment he chanted the following verse :

" On and away —
Speed to the fray I
Nor breast-plate we wear
In the sword-light glare.

1 42 TRANSLATIOIS"S.

The helmets shine ;

That armor of mine

"With its rich-wrongbt device

In Diy good ship lies."

*' A rude unpolished verse have I sung," said he, " now
must I make another and a better oue." Then he con-
tinued :

" There is death on the plain ; with mighty din
The Yirgin Hillda* hids begin
The fight, she calls — she urges in

Where sharp bright weapons crowd.
Slie stands 'neath the hollow-hreasted shield,
She shouts, the shock is on the field,
0''er the head the glittering sword they wield,

The clash of steel is loud.

The above is taken from Sxorko Sturleson (Latin
translation).

Six verses of Harald's song are preserved by Bartho-
lin, who adds a Latin translation. The following is the
first verse.

I.

Sneid fyrir Sikiley vida
sud varum "ha prudir
brunn skroid vel til vanar

"^Tbe northern goddess of war.

TEAJS^SLATIONS. 1 43

vengis hiortr und drengiura
vaetLi ek midr at motti
muni enn Ijannigrenna
Ipo laetr gerdr i gordum
goUhrings vid inor skolla.

[.
Circuivit Siciliam passim Davis, tum magnifiee fuimus fuses
raeavit proper^ pro spe nostra, navis sub viris, spero ego, con-
ventus meraor, earn exinde ita cursuram, attamen virgo Eus-
81 ca me respuit.

NOTE TO HACON.

Hacon the Good is well known in historj. He was a
brave and skilful warrior, and subjected all Norway to
his power. His reign was long and prosperous, but was
disturbed by the sons of bis brother Eric, who, taking up
their abode in Denmark, made frequent attacks on his
kingdom. Hacon was a Christian, and endeavored to per-
suade his people to embrace Christianity, but met with
strong opposition.

He was feasting in the island of Storda, his native
place, when messengers arrived announcing the approach
of a large army led by one of the sons of Eric. He im-
mediately engaged the enemy and put them to flight, but
was himself mortally wounded. Taken into his ship he

144 TPwVNSLATIOXS.

soon expired. His last words were—" Had a longer life
been granted to me, I would have left my kingdom and
country, and seeking the society of Christian men, would
have expiated the faults I have committed against God.
If, however, I am to die here among Pagans, pay the just
dues to the dead, in the manner that shall seem best to
you." He died a. u. 963.

This song was composed on his death by the celebrated
Eyvindr Skalldaspillir. It is one of the oldest speci-
mens of Norwegian poetry, and is given entire in Snorro
Sturleson's Saffa Ilakonar Goda. This poem illustrates
the popular belief of the ancient Norsemen, that Odin
sent his Yalkyrjor before a battle to choose those who
were to fall in the conflict, and to conduct their souls
after death to Valhalla.